"I suppose he--somehow--got into touch with Miss
Killenhall."
"Queer!" remarked Viner. "And why doesn't he come in?"
Then, resolved to know more, he walked into the anteroom, and after a
look round it, tried the door by which Mrs. Killenhall had admitted him
after coming up the stairs from the street; a second later he went back
to Miss Wickham and shook his head.
"It's just as I supposed," he remarked quietly. "We're trapped! Anyway,
the door of that anteroom is locked--and it's a strong lock. There's
something wrong."
The girl started, and paled a little, but Viner saw at once that she was
not likely to be seriously frightened, and presently she laughed.
"How very queer!" she said. "But--perhaps Mrs. Killenhall turned the key
in the outer lock so that no--patients, or other callers,
perhaps--should come in?"
"Sorry, but that doesn't strike me as a good suggestion," replied Viner.
"I'm going to have a look at that window!"
The one window of the room, a long, low one, was set high in the wall,
above the panelling; Viner had to climb on a bookcase to get at it. And
when he had reached it, he found it to be securely fastened, and to have
in front of it, at a distance of no more than a yard, a blank whitewashed
wall which evidently rose from a passage between that and the next house.
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